


Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

by rebelwriter6561



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mild Somnophilia, Nightmares, aggressive cuddling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7717123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt wakes from a nightmare and discovers he is not the only one with bad dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_It was a maze, a mystery, every wall and column the same, entrance and exit nowhere to be seen. Kurt jumped from ledge to floor to new height, trying to find the way. He was searching, he could feel the weight of seconds, each ticking towards too late. He was out of time, he had to find his way but couldn't. He was lost, it was too late, it was dark and the walls were all the same. And he wasn't alone._

_A shrill whistling echoed around him, coming from everywhere and nowhere. It sounded like terror, death swooping down on brutal wings. Kurt ran, teleported, tried to hide but the sound was still there, it was everywhere, he couldn't see, he was lost and turned around._

_He felt the primal fear that every hunted creature knew, he could sense the hunter bearing down on him but where? Kurt couldn't breathe but his panting breaths were too loud,_ he'd hear _. He'd come, tear Kurt apart, destruction for destruction, rage finally burning free._

_Kurt saw movement from the side and lept for safety, but he was too late. Steel feathers surrounded him, slicing him apart, a heavy force crashing into him, his face inches from the other’s angry sneer. He fought, tried to get away, but couldn't lose him, the sheets tangling his legs and tail holding him back, couldn't escape-_

_‘Sheets,’_ Kurt thought, _’there weren't sheets,’_ and there was never a wood floor at his back. Kurt blinked rapidly, awareness coming back in fits and starts. He wasn't in the pyramid, he was beside his bed in his room in the mansion. There was no avenging angel trying to destroy him, no snarling face or dangerous wings. It was a dream. A nightmare.

Kurt collapsed down to the floor, breathing hard. He could hear Scott snoring, and he was thankful that his roommate hadn't woken to his falling to the floor. Shakily, he unwrapped himself from the blankets twisted around him, shivers crawling over his skin.

It had been so vivid. The memory of being lost and hunted was so strong, even now. He'd felt the heat, the angel’s - Warren's - rage, the fear of failure and death so close. Closing his eyes, Kurt whispered a calming prayer, asking for peace. It wasn't real, it was all a dream, in the past, where it belonged.

On shaking legs Kurt got up and considered his bed. It was late, he should go back to sleep and forget the dream. But the images in his head haunted him, as they periodically did. It was accompanied, as always, by heavy guilt. He hated that his subconscious was still so cruel to Warren.

His friend - and they were friends, despite Warren's reluctance and distrust - wasn't the way he was in Berlin, or Egypt. He was still harsh and overwhelmingly angry, but he hadn't tried to kill Kurt again. In fact, Kurt was tolerated, his company almost welcomed. Which, compared to how Warren acted around everyone else, was probably a sign of true friendship between them.

Sometimes, Warren even smiled at him when they talked, and looked at him with something soft in his eyes. He even sought out Kurt for company instead of being alone. It was fleeting, and rare, but it warmed Kurt's heart all the same. It made him think that maybe Warren more than liked him as a friend. That maybe he felt the way Kurt felt.

Kurt's subconscious, however, didn't seem so forgiving. He still had nightmares, of being in a sparking cage, or an endless dark maze. The angel in his dreams never smiled at him. There was only rage and hatred.

He sighed heavily. Kurt knew he should sleep, he was tired, but his brain was still buzzing. Perhaps the tub of ice cream he had spotted in the kitchen freezer would soothe him.

Kurt crept out of his bedroom and down the hall, trying to be as silent as the sleeping house. It was past the darkest hour, when the blackness pressed into the walls and draped everything in a sense of stillness. It was a time that demanded sleep, and shunned the awake. They were not welcome at this time.

Rather than try to navigate the creaky stairs, Kurt teleported straight to the ground floor. The sound of displaced air seemed loud in his ears, but as he straightened from his automatic crouch he realized he could hear something else. A tiny crackle of static and muffled voices. Off-white light painted the wall across from the tv area. Someone else was awake.

Kurt quietly stepped closer, so he could see the screen. A pair of perfectly manicured hands were arranging a glittering necklace on a bed of blue velvet, and the text along the side advertised the price. Whoever was watching had the sound turned low enough that barely any words were distinguishable.

He couldn't see whoever was watching, but Kurt could see a bare foot hanging over the couch. He stood frozen, wondering if the watcher was still awake. If they weren't, the right thing to do, surely, was to turn the tv off and let them rest. But if they weren't, should he intrude?

Quietly, Kurt tiptoed up to the couch, craning his neck to see the viewer. His heart jumped when he recognized the feather-wrapped form reclining there, and saw they were also awake. And looking right at him.

“Uh, _Hallo_ , Warren,” Kurt said uncertainly. Warren didn't seem startled, or even angry. He was even smiling softly, features soft under the TV’s light.

“Hey Blue Boy.” Warren didn't even sound like himself, words loose and not angrily shouted. He was reclined on the couch like a renaissance artist posed him, wings draped comfortably over the sides, a soft blanket over his legs. It was off-putting to see, especially after his dream. “Welcome to the late-night shopping channel party. Join the fun.”

“Oh, are you sure?” Kurt didn’t want to intrude if Warren was enjoying his own time. It seemed like he was - Kurt had never seen him look so relaxed.

“Absolutely. It's great. We eat junk food and look at cheap jewelry. Have a seat.” Warren waved his hand at the space in front of the couch. Kurt could see snack wrappers, discarded throw pillows, and even the carton of ice cream he was looking for.

Kurt took a seat on the floor, couch to his back, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close. “It doesn't look cheap to me,” he said wistfully as he stared at the shimmer on the screen. The accompanying price tag also indicated a lofty price, even by his standards.

“They're selling it on tv in the middle of the night. ‘Course it's cheap.” Warren shifted behind him, and when Kurt glanced back he saw he had turned to rest on his side. Kurt was eye level with his admirable chest, and he had to look away when his cheeks heated up.

To distract himself, he asked what only seemed natural. “Then, why are we watching the shopping channel, anyway?” he questioned as he picked up the half-melted carton of ice cream. The Neapolitan trio was missing the chocolate column.

“Because there's nothing else on in the middle of the night, duh.” Warren extended the remote and clicked it through the channels. Sure enough, there was static on almost all of them. Kurt dug out a scoop of runny strawberry ice cream and licked it up when Warren returned to the shopping channel. “This is better than nothing, right?”

“But, why are you watching it in the first place? And not...sleeping?” Kurt wondered.

“Kurt. First rule of the late-night-crap-tv party: you don’t ask why the other viewers are up.” Warren sighed, very heavily. “Obviously it’s cause we can’t sleep.”

Kurt was about to say more, but he froze when he felt something in his hair. Tipping his head, he saw Warren was staring at his hair, eyes dark, fingers running across the back of his head.

“You’ve got a duck butt. It’s all sticking up.” Warren carded his fingers through his hair, probably making it stick up further. “You a big Flock of Seagulls fan or something?”

“What?” Kurt was certain Warren was on something. Not drunk - he'd seen Warren drunk, he just got louder and angrier. But this was so strange, so different than what Kurt was used to. Their normal conversations were usually stilted on Warren's part, while Kurt rattled on. And he certainly never touched him.

Not that he was complaining.

“Flock of Seagulls. They're a band. You have almost the same hairstyle as the lead singer. Kinda toned down though.” Warren ran his fingers from the crown of his head down to his neck, raising shivers. “Did you not know who's hair you're emulating?”

“Uh, not really. I, um, I saw it in a magazine.” A rare British magazine, smuggled into the circus by one of the acrobats. Kurt had seen the picture that inspired his bangs and fell in love. In a fit of rebellion he stole scissors and dye from one of the clowns to style his long locks the way he finally wanted. 

He wasn't sure if that was the tipping point, but he was sent away from the troupe soon after. But he still loved it, loved having his hair this way. He thought, sometimes, that it even made him look good. He even thought Warren had liked it.

But Warren was laughing now, and Kurt couldn't tell if it was at him or because of him. “You're such a poser, Kurt. You don't even know who's hairstyle you're copying? Holy shit.” Warren dissolved into giggles.

Kurt stared at him. Something was wrong with him, surely. He never laughed like this. “Warren? Are you okay?” He didn't want to outright ask if he was high, but it seemed that way.

“I'm just tired, Kurt.” Warren's chuckles trailed off, and his hand came back to play with his hair. Now he was running his fingers through his bangs, mixing the colored strands with the black. “I haven't had more than four hours sleep all week.”

“But, why? Or am I not allowed to ask that?” Warren frowned, but not angrily. He pushed Kurt's bangs back, exposing his face fully. His friend was looking right at him, but Kurt could tell he wasn't really seeing him.

“I have nightmares, buddy. Every damn time I close my eyes I can hear _him_ talking to me.” Warren removed his hand from Kurt's hair and rubbed his face with it. “Like I'm back in Egypt. And it's not like they're memories, either. He never told me to tear the school apart, or rip your head off. It's like he's still in my head, giving me orders.” 

Kurt felt a chill down his spine at those words, remembering the pyramid. The sound of metal wings. But the words were so matter-of-fact, non-threatening. And Warren sounded so sad. “Shouldn't you tell the professor? Or Jean?”

“I don't want anyone else in my head!” Now Warren sounded like himself, angry and upset. It passed when he sighed shakily, exhausted. He dropped his hand back to Kurt's hair again, running his fingers through his bangs. Kurt didn't even mind that he was messing them up, because it felt so good, but he was too worried about Warren to enjoy it.

“I just...I'm so damn tired, Kurt. I should be able to get over it, but I can't, it's too much. I fucking hate the way it makes me feel.”

”I understand. I have bad dreams too,” Kurt shared. He couldn’t tell Warren exactly what he dreamed about, not now, but he wanted his friend to know. It seemed their reasons for joining the shopping channel party were the same.

“Course you do.” Warren still sounded sad, looking at Kurt like Kurt had looked at the jewels on the screen. “There's really nothing to do but watch this shit until I pass out. So that's the plan.”

“It's not a good plan, though. You need to sleep, Warren.” Kurt wanted to say more, but he didn't know what. He turned reluctantly back to the melty ice cream. It was barely solid anymore.

“It's all I got, buddy.” Warren's voice was muffled, and when he peeked over his shoulder, Kurt saw he had burrowed his face into his other arm, eyes closed. The bags under his eyes stood out nearly as much as the facial markings. “I can't get drunk, it makes it worse. Drugs make me sick. Meditating or whatever doesn't work. I don't know what else to do.”

The hand that had been playing with Kurt's hair laid on the couch, very close to his face. Tentatively, Kurt reached up and took it, stroking his thumb across Warren's tough knuckles. He thought maybe he heard Warren sigh shakily at the touch, but it was lost in the quiet noise from the tv.

By the time he finished the strawberry ice cream, he was almost certain Warren had fallen asleep. He wasn't twitching or crying out like someone with a nightmare, but his breath was even and heavy. Warren was fully relaxed, body limp and face free of the angry expressions that normally graced it. 

He really looked like an angel, like this, Kurt thought. Warren's wings had slumped as well, one hanging close to Kurt like it was reaching out to cover him too. He was so careful about his beautiful wings, normally. No one dared touch them, even after the feathers grew back. This close, Kurt finally had the chance to admire them as they should be.

Seeing Warren deeply asleep made something deep in Kurt's chest hurt. He'd been trying for months to be friends with Warren, and now it seemed to have paid off, just not in the way he wished. Maybe it was just sleepiness, or needing to talk to someone, _anyone_ , but Warren had finally let Kurt know what was bothering him. He shouldn't feel happy about that, but he was.

He was also tired, too. The ice cream worked it's magic on him, and seeing Warren asleep was making him wish for rest again too.

Kurt hated to move away, but he had to, because the vanilla was melting. He grabbed as much trash as he could, as well as the almost empty ice cream tub, before he took several steps away from Warren. That way, his teleport to the kitchen wouldn't wake him.

When he returned after cleaning up and putting things away, he was relieved to see Warren was in the same position, completely undisturbed. Kurt didn't make a sound when he turned off the tv, but he wondered what to do with Warren. Leaving him here alone, after their talk, seemed cruel. He didn't want to leave his friend to wake up alone.

Kurt crouched at his side, grabbing hold of his arm gently. He pictured his messy bed, the way the covers would be mussed but the mattress so soft, pillows so inviting…

The feeling of teleportation must have woken Warren. Kurt heard him snort when they landed on the mattress but he didn't speak. He also didn't stir when Kurt pulled the blanket up around him. “Go back to sleep, _Engel_ ” Kurt gently whispered, smoothing the blanket over his shoulders.

He intended to pull away, to move to the other side of the bed, but Warren's wing rose around him at the same time as Warren's arm grabbed him around the middle. He was strong, even half asleep, and pulled Kurt over to him. When Kurt let himself be dragged in, feeling nervous and very warm, Warren embraced him, holding him tight against his chest. 

Warren's blonde head rested next to Kurt's on the pillow. That close, his body pressed against Warren's, Kurt could feel how heavily Warren sighed and relaxed. “...like this…” Warren breathed against his skin before going still.

Kurt laid there frozen from the unexpected gesture. He thought about squirming away, but Warren would probably drag him back, or worse, wake up. He shifted so he wasn't lying directly on his tail, and so they weren't touching _quite_ so much.

Warren's wing covered him like a quilt, very soft and protecting. Kurt gently rested one hand on Warren's back, feeling very unsure of himself. Warren had been the one to bring him close, but would he feel the same when he woke? What if he went back to his angry self in the morning? What if he resented Kurt for seeing him so weak?

He didn't want to think about it. His eyes were heavy and so was Warren, a nice warm weight on his side. Kurt closed his eyes, letting himself slip into rest. At least Warren was sleeping now too.

~*~

Jangling alarm bells. Someone hissed “shit!” in his ear. Then the bed jolted and he felt cold air on his chest. But it was a loud ‘thud’ that jolted Kurt up, fully awake, heart pounding.

Scott was sitting up in his bed, reaching for his glasses. “What the hell was that? he asked over the sound of his alarm clock.

“I...I don't know.” Kurt lied. He knew exactly what the noise had been - it had been Warren, hitting the floor after apparently leaping out of bed before Scott could see him lying there with Kurt. Face burning, he didn't dare look over the far side of the bed where Warren was now hiding.

Scott, glasses safely on, looked around the room, no doubt listening for trouble. Finally, he shrugged. “Must have been one of the other students,” he muttered when he climbed out of bed.

Kurt nodded, trying to hide how on-edge he was. He jumped out of bed - the opposite side from where Warren was hiding - and tugged on the blankets, trying to neaten it without being too obvious he was hiding something. Scott grabbed his toothbrush and, yawning, finally left the room.

Kurt sighed, relief shooting through him when the door closed behind his friend. But he jumped about a foot in the air when another pair of hands pinned his to the bed.

He looked up to see Warren leaning over the mattress, eyes focused on him. He looked much more awake and alert now, wings flared up like he was ready to fight.

His face and voice gave nothing away when he spoke. “How the hell did I get in bed with you last night?” He didn't sound angry, but Kurt recoiled anyway, trying to tug his hands away in vain.

“Um, you were sleeping on the couch, I didn't want to leave you there after- we talked, you know, and you were having trouble sleeping-”

“Yeah, yeah, Kurt, I remember that part.” Warren interrupted his rambling. “I'm asking how we got _here_. I don't remember getting walking here or...did you teleport us?” He still didn't sound mad, bafflingly.

“Yes, we teleported here,” Kurt admitted guiltily. He regretted it, greatly. It must have been such a shock to Warren, waking up in a strange room, in the bed of someone else.

“And I didn't wake up. God, I was out of it.” Warren sounded sleep-confused, hair a ruffled mess, but his expression was light. How was he not angry?

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought you to my room, but I haven't been in yours, and I didn't want to wake you-” Kurt rambled on, still trying to take his hands back. Warren squeezed them tighter, a small frown finally appearing on his face.

“Kurt, stop, calm down, I'm not mad.” Warren actually climbed onto the bed to get closer to him, staring at him intently, still holding his hands. “I didn't have any nightmares, buddy. None! I actually got some rest.” The frown was completely gone, and Warren was actually beaming, face lighting up like Kurt had never seen.

Open-mouthed in awe, Kurt didn't know what to say. “Why… do you think talking helped?”

“Who cares? Kurt, I can't tell you how much better I feel.” Warren got off the bed to stand next to Kurt, wrapping him in an unexpected hug, wings coming around him. “Seriously, I can't thank you enough,” he murmured in Kurt's pointed ear.

Kurt brought his arms up, gently embracing his friend, loving the feeling of arms around him, and the happiness pouring off Warren. It was like he was dreaming, surrounded by feathers and a beaming angel. A very good dream.

“I'm glad I could help you, Warren, truly.” he answered honestly. “Better than the shopping channel, yes?”

His joke made Warren laugh and pull back, hands moving up to frame Kurt's face. “You are so much better than the shopping channel, blue boy.” Warren looked like he was going to say more, but instead leaned forward to gently kiss Kurt's forehead. “I better leave before Four-Eyes gets back,” he said as he pulled away.

“Uh, yes,” Kurt agreed, light-headed and tingling from the kiss. He walked to the door with Warren, feeling dazed but happy. Warren opened it enough to check the hall for other students, but turned back to him before he left. 

“Is it...I mean, are you okay if I, I mean…” Warren sounded nervous, looking at their feet. “If the nightmares come back, or something, if you ever want to meet up for another late-night party, or whatever-”

Kurt interrupted him, guessing what he was asking. “If you have problems sleeping again, you can come get me,” he assured his friend. “Scott's a heavy sleeper, he won't notice.” 

Warren grinned at him, wings slumping in relief. “You're the best.” He ran his hand through Kurt's hair, ruffling it one last time, before slipping out.

Kurt went back to his bed and collapsed back onto it, grinning madly. He hadn't expected this, had no idea it would help Warren so much. He was thrilled that everything has worked out so well.

He hoped that it meant the end of the nightmares, for both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a warming for somnophilia, but it's nothing explicit, nothing happens without consent. Just some aggressive cuddling (the best kind) where one party is asleep.

Warren was in hell. It was hot, he couldn't move, and he was being tortured. It was actually pretty enjoyable, but it was still hell.

His version of hell involved him laying in his bed, being aggressively cuddled by Kurt. Which was normally great. Ever since they stumbled onto the revelation that sleeping together ‒ as in, just in the same bed ‒ meant less nightmares, Warren had embraced the new sleeping arrangements. It meant no more bad dreams, and more hanging out with Kurt, and seeing him all relaxed and adorable. Win-win.

His current problem, and the reason he was in hell, was the aggressive cuddling that was currently happening. Normally contact between them was kept to a minimum ‒ sometimes Kurt slept with his head on his chest, or his arm, or they ended up cuddling a little. That was fine ‒ hell, he loved it.

And yeah, that often meant waking up with a boner. A lot often. Which he normally took care of in the shower before Kurt woke up and noticed.

But there was no escape this morning. Not only were they burritoed together under the blankets, Kurt was lying on his arm, and had the other cuddled to his chest. Warren's own traitorous wings were covering them both. Kurt's back was pressed to Warren's front, and his tail ‒ that long, strong, very powerful tail ‒ was curled around their legs.

That meant Kurt's ass, every firm and appealing inch of it, was pressed to Warren's crotch. And his dick was very _very_ much enjoying it.

The rest of Warren, not so much. 

If it were literally anyone else in the world, Warren would wake them up with a filthy grin and an innuendo and see where that took him. He wouldn't try anything while someone was asleep ‒ he was an asshole, but not that much of an asshole ‒ but he liked to think his odds of him then getting laid were pretty high.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was Kurt.

Kurt, who blushed at the slightest filthy joke. Kurt, whose face lit up like a million suns when he smiled at Warren. Kurt, who was so sweet and so pure and who deserved so much better than someone like Warren.

If Kurt woke up to this, he would probably melt away from embarrassment. Their friendship would be ruined. And Warren just just starting to think that his affection of Kurt wasn't just one-sided, either. 

Warren cared too much for his friend to let Kurt wake up to this.

For a minute, though, Warren allowed himself to enjoy it. He buried his face in Kurt's hair and let himself imagine that this was alright, that he and Kurt could wake like this every day, with kisses and wonderful soft touches. He ached for it ‒ not just for physical relief, but to be able to wake up every day with someone he loved, who loved him back. And he couldn't imagine that someone being anyone besides Kurt.

He wanted it so badly, but not like this.

Carefully, he twisted and slipped his arm from Kurt's grasp. When he didn't wake, Warren reached down as far as he could, brushing his fingers over the tail wrapped around their thighs. He found the spade end and carefully pushed it, manipulating it so it unwound itself.

Kurt shifted at the movement, and Warren had to stop when the action caused Kurt to rub right against him. He was so hard it nearly hurt, and Kurt's sleepy actions were not helping.

He was nearly freed when disaster struck. With one loop at the top of their thighs still holding them together, the tail suddenly wrapped itself around his arm. The spade at the end nuzzled into his palm, and Kurt's resulting sigh that was practically a moan made Warren wonder just how sensitive the thing was.

But this was not the time to think about it. Now was an even greater problem to face. How the hell was he supposed to unwrap the tail when the only hand he had free was what the tail was wrapped around?

He tried twisting his arm again, trying to shimmy it out of the coils. The action disturbed Kurt's sleep, and for a heart-stopping moment Warren thought he was going to wake up. But he stilled, and to Warren's horror, that powerful tail dragged his arm down, so it was once again pressed to Kurt's chest.

Lower, actually. More like his abdomen. Warren's wrist was actually at the same level as Kurt's crotch. And through his sleep pants, Warren could feel some very warm and very obvious evidence that Kurt was enjoying the aggressive cuddling.

Warren was frozen, curses running through his mind, trying to distract himself from the knowledge that _Kurt was turned on._ He considered, for half of a second, doing something other than escaping, but pushed the idea aside. Kurt was asleep, he had no idea what he was doing and who was in bed with him. It would be beyond acceptable to try anything.

Face burning with embarrassment and frustration, Warren tried once again to get his hips away from Kurt's ass. It worked for a second, and Warren breathed a sigh of relief when cool air reached his over-heated chest and dick.

Then Kurt arched back ‒ deliberately, at least in his sleep ‒ and was back to being the little spoon. Warren bit down a groan when Kurt rubbed against him again, causing a jolt to shoot through his body. He jerked at his tail-wrapped arm in panic, desperately trying to free himself.

Kurt didn't let him go. He sighed a very pleased sleepy sound, and his hips moved again, but forward. Pressing and rubbing against Warren's arm.

Warren's brain shorted out. He couldn't…he wanted…this was… Kurt's hips were still moving.

This wasn't happening. He couldn't lay here if Kurt kept doing that. Embarrassment be damned, Warren was going to explode if he stayed any longer.

“Kurt!” he hissed in his friend's pointed ear. Kurt just hummed sleepily and shifted in Warren's embrace. For the love of God‒ “Kurt, please wake up. Let go of my arm.”

Kurt's next noise sounded more conscious and questioning. Then Warren heard him gasp, and Kurt exploded out of his arms.

Warren sat up, dragging a blanket over his lap. The arm that had been under Kurt all night tingled painfully, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his pants. Or the feeling of dread in his chest. There went his chance of not embarrassing Kurt.

Kurt was crouched on the bed, facing him, an absolutely horrified look on his face. He looked at Warren, then down at his lap, then back. His face went from blue to magenta alarmingly fast.

“I'm sorry!” Kurt stammered, and squeezed his eyes shut. A sudden warning of intuition hit Warren, and he dived at Kurt and grabbed his wrist just in time. Kurt's aborted attempt to teleport away just jolted them an inch down the bed.

“Please let go,” Kurt pleaded. He was twisting and yanking on his arm, still not looking at Warren. Warren didn't need to see his face to know his friend was beyond mortified. 

But if he left, they'd never be able to look each other in the eye, or bring it up again. And they needed to. Warren knew he was the undisputed champion of avoiding difficult conversations, but he knew enough to know they needed to talk about it.

“Kurt, come on. You can't just hump my arm and leave.” Warren hoped his brashness would at least get Kurt's attention. Thankfully his friend stopped struggling, although he still wouldn't look at Warren. “Just talk to me.”

“What do we talk about?” Kurt sounded miserable. Warren couldn't blame him. “Please don't‒ I didn't mean to, I wasn't… it won't happen again. I won't bother you again, I won't‒”

“Look, I know you're embarrassed‒” Kurt made a pained noise of agreement. “‒but it's not like I didn't like it‒ I mean… fuck.” Warren hated himself for his inability to think before he spoke. “What I'm trying to say is that I'm not that bothered. That you, you know‒” Warren's free hand gestured vaguely at them.

“What do you mean?” Poor Kurt sounded even more confused and embarrassed.   
With more nervousness than he'd ever felt in his life, Warren's free hand pushed Kurt's chin up. The miserable look on Kurt's face gave him the courage to finally say what he'd wanted to for weeks.

“I mean I've been having the same problem since we've been sleeping together.” Warren realized, watching Kurt's face grow impossibly more purple, that what he said probably wasn't the smartest. There were a million ways Kurt could take offense to that.

To his relief, Kurt laughed, a brief burst of nervous giggles. He still looked embarrassed, but now with an accompanying sheepish grin. Warren mirrored it. At least Kurt hadn't punched him and tried to run.

Boldly, Warren pressed on. “And it's not that embarrassing. It'd happen to anyone who was sleeping next to someone as beautiful as you.”

Kurt stilled. Warren wasn't sure he was breathing, but the pulse that Warren could feel in his wrist skyrocketed at his words.

Warren didn't give him any time to question his words. It was either the best or worst thing to do at the moment, but he gave Kurt a kiss anyway. He didn't go for the mouth at least, choosing instead to press his lips to Kurt's cheek.

“It's fine if you don't want to be around me anymore‒” that was a total lie, Warren could feel his heart breaking at the thought. “‒But I need you to know that even before we started sleeping together, I've loved spending time with you. And I thought, maybe, you felt the same way. But if you don't‒”

“You mean...” Kurt interrupted. His face wasn't so brightly flushed, but he finally met Warren's eyes. They were wide and hopeful. “You mean you like me too?”

Kurt's voice was so full of heartbreaking longing that Warren leaned in to kiss him again, on his forehead, where he'd recklessly pressed a kiss after their first night together. “Of course I like you,” he assured the blue mutant. It occurred to him, for all that Kurt seemed to understand his moods and tempers, this was something he was right to express out loud. “Come on, you know me, you think I'd get in bed with someone I didn't?” 

Kurt's claws dimpled the sheets. “I thought, maybe, that you liked me, but I wasn't sure. I mean, you're…” Kurt gestured vaguely at Warren. Warren nodded. He knew what Kurt was getting at.

“But I still like _you_. I've liked you ever since I pulled my head out of my ass and stopped seeing you as the enemy.” That had taken longer than he'd care to admit, but he'd gotten over his dislike of the one person who'd won a fight against him. That had to count for something.

Kurt still looked all kinds of nervous, so Warren resisted the urge to kiss him again, going instead for a soothing hand squeeze. “Listen, this doesn't need to be a _thing_. We don't need to go shouting from the rooftops about this. It's no one else's business.” Kurt looked relieved about that, and Warren breathed easier. They were getting somewhere. “We don't have to do anything different. I mean, if you want to sleep more in your own bed, so we don't have a repeat performance of this, that's fine, but I don't have a problem taking things slow.”

“And what if...this happens again?” Kurt, still blushing adorably, was now looking at Warren with such hope that it was making his heart swell. He couldn't believe he hadn't fucked it up, hadn't ruined things by saying the wrong words. What a fucking miracle.

“If this happens again‒” Warren knew what he _wanted_ to say, but he knew that would really scare Kurt off .“If it happens again, we'll deal with it then.” Kurt was smart, he could guess exactly what Warren meant by _that_. His responding blush indicated that he certainly did.

There was nothing to take care of at the moment. Their talk had calmed Warren's blood, although he was certain if he continued sitting there, looking at Kurt's adorable face, things would change. But Warren didn't want to push his luck any more than he had.

“Listen, why don't we go get breakfast, and we'll go from there?” Warren suggested. It was early enough that they'd beat the breakfast rush of students, and no one would assume they'd arrive together.

“That sounds nice,” Kurt looked hesitantly happy, and Warren wondered how likely it was that this was Kurt's first shot at a real relationship. Probably pretty likely.

That made Warren feel ridiculously thrilled. He felt like he needed to spoil Kurt, to set the bar so damn high no one would be able to top it. He wanted to be the only one Kurt smiled at they way he did, like he could barely contain what he felt. Kurt was the only one to worm his way into Warren's cold dead heart, so he wanted to be the only one in Kurt's.

He pulled Kurt from the bed, pushing him at the door and finally pulling away so Kurt could teleport. “I'll meet you down there,” he said with a smile. Kurt nodded before he vanished.

Warren scrambled for his dresser, trying to find the shirt he knew fit him best. His head was in the clouds and his heart was soaring along with it. Against the odds, things had worked out. Warren was never so lucky.

Now he just had to prove to Kurt that he was worthy of his affection. But after what they'd just gone through, that should be a piece of cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
